


Yours, for a price!

by Albeva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Complicated Relationships, Contracts, First Time, Gay Rights, Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Present Tense, Prostitution, Rentboys, Secret Relationship, Sexuality Crisis, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albeva/pseuds/Albeva
Summary: A lonely, sexually repressed and desperately horny Harry comes across an advertisement for a rent-boy, and decides to check it out. When it turns out that advertiser is someone he knows, it will set him off on a journey of sex, self discovery and perhaps even love ... but the thing is ... is it love or just sex when money is involved?
Relationships: Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

> _ Hi _

I stare at the enchanted parchment, heart racing, waiting for the reply. Will there be one? What if it was all some weird joke. No! I try to take a calming breath. The ad I saw was pretty clear. After a few minutes I decide to try again, maybe add a bit of clarification.

> _ I saw an ad with your details. Was wondering if you are available? _

Nothing seems to happen. My words linger on the parchment. Are they being ignored? Or simply not yet seen? Whoever is on the other side. If there is anyone at all… But just as I begin to lose the nerve, and chuck the thing into fire - I see a reply forming: I hold my breath, my fingers itching and stomach doing cartwheels, there, in neat handwriting I see lines appear:

> _ Hi there! Sorry for not answering sooner. I’m available during evening hours and on Saturday. Would you like to make a booking? _

Would I! Part of me wants to scramble the parchment, throw it in the fire and forget the whole thing. Pretend I never saw the ad, pretend my heart isn’t racing at the mere thought of it all. Bury this desire, this yearning I’ve had for years and years, but never had courage to face. Huh, some Gryffindor I am. We’re supposed to be brave and grab life by the horns and all that …

I take a deep breath, forcing my emotions to calm down, trying to steady my hand and send a reply:

> _ Yeah, the weekend sounds great. However, I’ve never, you know … before. So not sure what to expect or how it works. Or how much you charge ... _

I sound like a blithering idiot, so I add

> _ sorry, just new to this. _

This time I see reply forming immediately:

> _ No worries! Don’t worry - I’ll take good care of you ;) Seriously, you're not the first guy who gets curious or such. But first, what would you like to do? What are you looking for? _

Nervous excitement is building in me, I am not exactly sure what I want, but the possibilities… What if I ask something and he won’t like it, or think I am some sort of pervert?

> _ Dunno, just… guess to have some good time. Try stuff. What do you offer? Like what can I expect? _

Don’t remember last time I was this twitchy, this excited.

> _ Sure! I promise, we’ll have a good time! No need to beat round the bush, I offer: anal (top/bottom), oral, kissing, cuddling, chatting, I also give an excellent massage. I can provide boyfriend experience, if you’d like to go on a date (in muggle world only). I don’t do anything weird though, no kinks, polyjuicing/transfiguration, BDSM or sub/dom, safe sex only. Is that something you think you’d like? _

I can feel my arousal, I am breathing hard, staring, my imagination already kicking in … Merlin I want this. I want this .. so … bloody … much.

> _ Yeah, that sounds good. Not sure what BDSM is … safe sex sounds good, uhm, not sure what it means exactly though. _

I hope he won’t think me an idiot. Howarts idea of sex-ed … was to pretend no one ever has sex. The only “talk” on the topic I’ve ever had was when Mr Weasley sat me and Ron down and informed us that we were just kids, sex was for adults only and not before wedding vows. Yeah …

> _ Great! BDSM is about erotic role play, bondage, that sort of thing. Leather pants, whips, people often tie one another up. If you want that - I know a guy who does this. As for safe sex - basically anal is with condom only, I know it's muggle, but trust me, way better than any protection charm. If you want cum eating or facial I only give, no receiving. _

I literally CHOKE reading the last line, my fingers are numb and I can’t help but lick my lips, letting my imagination run wild. It’s weird, and should be yuck, disgusting, the very idea should make me wanna throw up, yet, all I can do at the moment is imagine a nice cock in my mouth, what would it be like?

> _ That sounds good to me. No … I don’t think I’m into weird stuff either. No way I’d let someone tie me up. Whips? Seriously? YIKES. Cum eating … Do other guys do that? Uhm… I think … I think I’d wanna. You know. Try it. If it's okay with you. _

My initial nerves calming down a bit, this ad, this guy, could it really be? Give me what I’ve secretly been fantasizing about since I was 13?

> _ Yeah I agree with you, BDMS not for me either. And yeah, you'd be surprised! I’m clean and healthy, so when we meet and you decide you want to - no need to be shy. I’m happy to oblige you. _

I grin, I hold the quill in one hand, and the other slide into my underwear, slowly stroking my dick. Wish I could meet him right now …

> _ Can you like … tell me a bit about yourself? What do you look like? How old are you? _

His reply takes a bit longer this time, handwriting is tad neater too, as if he is being careful with what he writes.

> _ I’m 19. I’m skinny and smooth. I make sure to take care of myself and my appearance. So if you’d like to go out with me - I won’t embarrass you! More than that I can’t reveal until we sign the contract. The Wizarding world is very small and I don’t fancy my details leaking out and becoming known what I do for a living. Hope you understand. _

Earlier nervousness comes back full force, I pull my hand away from my dick, stare at the parchment. 19? Nineteen? NINE-FUCKING-TEEN? That means … unless he attended a different school, that we were probably in the same year! Shit! What if he is one of my mates? Or someone I don’t like? Maybe this whole thing is a bad idea… 

But still, there were around 20 boys in our year. I try to calm down, reason this through, I can probably rule some of them out. Most of the boys were okay, and I wasn’t that close to most of them anyway! Still, he is my age. Which is kind of nice. I expected him to be older… The ad promised a young twink with a slim body ... Should I reply in kind, reveal my age? Will he also make the connection? Will he call it off? Still, probably better to be honest about this.

> _ I’m 19 as well. _

Not sure what else to say.

> _ I see. 8th year? _

I swallow, but well, too late now. 8th year is the unofficial class name we had. Pretty much everyone returned to school after Voldemort fell, after we rebuilt the castle. Well it wasn’t like there really was any choice. McGonagall and the Ministry decided to invalidate the entire previous school year and everyone had to repeat it. I suppose it was the right choice. Too many students weren’t able to attend, and those who did missed many classes, not to mention standards were dropped, dark arts malarky that was going on ...

> _ Yes. You? _

I wait and stare, but see no response. Part of me is relieved he isn’t replying, part of me disappointed. Not really sure about this. Do I really want to pay one of my class mates for sex? Am I really that desperate? What if it is … Seamus? I’d never hear the end of it! No, somehow I’m pretty sure he doesn’t sound like Seamus. Dean’s handwriting is much too neat for what I’ve seen today, I’d recognize Ron’s scribble anywhere. Neville? Nah … doesn’t sound like him either. I hope.

Weird, how coming out to some potentially unknown older guy, meeting him, having sex, didn’t scare me. But the idea that he is my classmate, someone I know ... letting them know I am gay?

Let’s just say it is not okay to be gay in the wizarding world. Like seriously taboo, wrong, looked down on. Close the doors, cover children's eyes when one is about. That sort of thing. They used to send people to Azkaban not that long ago for that. Dumbledore managed to repeal that and make discrimination illegal, at least under the law. Yeah, the problem is, loads of people don’t care about the law. Once they know you’re a fairy, that’s all they see. Sick, twisted, wrong, bad influence, bad role model, cursed even, should be ashamed of yourself. Something to be fixed at St. Mungos with a potion. Which apparently is a thing.

> _ I am. Sorry for the delay. This won’t be a problem for me if you are okay and wish to proceed. We’ll have a contract, once we sign, we can take this further. If you change your mind we can end the deal any time you like. _

I sigh with relief. I wonder for a moment what to write back. Tell him to piss off? Say I’m not actually interested? But damn, thing is: I want to suck dick. I press my crotch into the mattress, feeling my erection growing again, letting my imagination go wild for a moment, nice hot cock in my mouth, sucking it, licking it, tasting the cum… Against my better judgement I send a reply:

> _ Yeah, let's do that. Contract? What is that? How does that work? _

Original ad had promised anonymity guaranteed. Main reason I even decided to try. His reply again is neat and written slowly and carefully:

> _ It is a magical contract. Standard in my occupation. It is drafted by magilaywer and enchanted by the Ministry of Magic to be binding. All legal, in case you are wondering. Mostly it is about our privacy. You can’t reveal, in any way, or be compelled to, who I am, and vice versa. Except if one of us uses violence against the other, or otherwise attempts to break the agreement. Say, for example, if you refuse to pay me, in which case I can call the Aurors on you. _

In all honesty I am surprised. Seriously? There are Ministry administered contracts for that? I guess he must sense my disbelief when I write:

> _ Really? There is contract like this? Woah! _

He explains:

> _ Yep! Prostitution is fully legal and regulated in the Wizarding World. Unlike, say, in the Muggle world. And yeah, the contract is pretty strong. You’d be surprised how many ministry employees I’ve met! And trust me, they don’t want their affairs and indiscretions known! A guy I used to know told me stories. How people tried to set up meetings and then use them as blackmail, or get out of marriage or whatnot. Pretty batshit crazy stuff. That’s why the contracts came to be. If you know a magilaywer, you can ask them to look the contract over for you. It is anonymous. But basically: If I break the contract, you have the power over me, if you break it, I can expose you. It protects both of us. _

It is actually pretty neat. All things considered. My biggest fear has been, me being, well, me. I wonder what the world would say if they found out Harry Potter paid a rent boy to suck dick?

> _ Sounds pretty neat. So how does that work? You send it over to me or how do I collect it? _

His reply is quick.

> _ We’ll use a private postbox to exchange the contract. Once you have it, read and sign it and I’ll sign mine. When we have both signed it, our names will be revealed. After that if you still wish to meet, we’ll set up time and place. That’s about it. _

Sounds simple enough. I re-read our conversation from the beginning, checking what we talked about. Thinking about what I’ve missed, what I should ask him. I notice one of the first questions is still unanswered:

> _ How much do you charge? _

His answer is quick:

> _ For outcalls I charge 5 galleons an hour, or 20 galleons for the whole night. If you wish to go on a date (only in the muggle world!) you will cover all costs, including our transport. I will provide massage oil, lube and condoms, I have few sex toys as well, you don’t need to worry about that :) _

That’s cheaper than I thought. I don’t really need to worry about money, but still, I’m not used to wasting it either. So it sounds good to me. I wonder what he means by sex toys though.

> _ Outcall? Sex toys? Price sounds okay, no worries there. _

His handwriting seems tad less neat now, more relaxed. I wonder what he thinks and feels about this all. Potentially meeting his classmate, getting paid to have sex with 'em?

> _ Incall means you come to my place, but I don’t live alone, so that is not an option. Outcall, as you can guess, means I come to your place. We can book a hotel (at your expense) if you can’t host me. Sex toys - oh man you're in for a treat! They can be fun, and help relax. I got some dildos and such, can help with preparing for anal. I’m not into heavy toy use though. Like whips and handcuffs (muggle restraining devices) and stuff. _

I smile, once again find myself slowly stroking my dick, wanting this to be real already.

> _ Sounds good. Guess let's do the contract thing then. If okay with you I’d prefer Saturday, for the whole night. Would hate having to watch the time and worry if you had to go. No date though, er, I think. Just not sure what to do or where to go. Don’t know any places either. So, if okay with you, maybe just stay in, chat and stuff? My place is okay, I live alone, I got a muggle TV and a VCR with a bunch of movies. _

His reply is quick.

> _ Great! Saturday works for me, I love muggle movies! So here’s what we're gonna do, I’ll give you a postbox with the password, send your owl and deposit 1 galleon for the contract. It’s the Ministry of Magic fee and is non refundable. Even if you change your mind about meeting me! I’ll send the contract, you can ask your owl to wait for it, shouldn’t take long. And then we sign it. When we meet, you will owe me 4 galleons for the first hour, or 19 if you wish for me for the night. How does that sound? _

I don’t waste any breath before scribbling back, before he even properly finishes

> _ Yeah sounds good! _

I’m nervous and excited. Whole thing feels unreal, like I’m in a dream, in one of my fantasies. Finally, after all these years, I’ll actually meet a guy. He provides me the postbox and the password and I send Monty off. Monty is my new owl. Don’t ask about the name - it has absolutely nothing to do with a dead parrot sketch! I swear!

> _ I booked you for the Saturday night. We'll decide the exact time and meeting place later. Contract should be in the postbox by morning. If there is anything else you want to talk about / ask me feel free to write to me, For now though, I have to go. Looking forward to meeting you! _

I let him know I am looking forward to it. And then convo ended.

I lie on my back, insta chat scroll by my face, skimming over earlier convo, imagining, him, crouching over me, his legs by sides of my head, his cock in my mouth, I keep stroking myself, faster, faster, I want it, want him, mystery bloke, to lick his cock, his balls, taste him, swallow him! My mind goes blank in orgasmic bliss as I come and I just lay there, smiling


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit heavy maybe, but I wanted to address Harry's character, his thoughts and feelings.

I stare at the contract in my hand. This thing is … huge. The amount of legalese in here is staggering. Long winded sections of most dry verbal diarrhea imaginable. A real turn on! Not. Unless you are Percy Weasley I guess... I do try my best to parse through this. I suppose this is largely written on behalf of high-up ministry employees and rich purebloods who are desperate to keep their secrets and indiscretions. All the better for me I guess!

I chuckle at myself, imagining asking Hermione for help. “Yeah, uhm, could you check this for me? This is, uh … for a friend! Honest! I totally am not thinking of hiring a rentboy to suck his dick. Would never think of it!” Yeah, better not. Hermione is much too clever, no matter what cover story I might try to befuddle her with. Sadly I don’t know any magilaywers that I could trust.

Large sections of the contract seem all about secrecy and privacy. Binding two parties in magic similar to Fidelius. I am surprised about the number of protection clauses that seem to apply both ways. Some that protect me, while others protect the “Service Provider”. It seems that even if a contract is breached, neither of us can actually run off to the Daily Prophet. Mostly it lays out rights to call aurors, and an agreement to a private hearing.

Large sections are dedicated to pregnancy that might arise from the encounter. Either the client, or the “service provider”. Who is to blame, who carries responsibility, naming rights of the child, rights to any recompense, claiming family inheritance, etc., etc. etc.. Yeah. I’m glad I’m a guy and gay. Even with magic, men, thankfully, can’t get pregnant. I skip over most of that.

One that catches my eye, and is surprisingly written in more plain language, is the right to terminate the encounter, by either party, at any time, for any reason. It also states that both can refuse any activity or request, at any time, with no justification required. Several sections follow detailing rules for compensation in such an event. That, I have to admit, sounds good. Even though I pay someone, I wouldn’t want to force them to do something they absolutely do not want to.

And then, the dotted line. Client signature and date. Staring at me. Mockingly. I have to admit, it is easy to just think about it, even chat about it through insta scroll messages at a safe distance, behind a wall of anonymity. It is entirely different to actually commit myself. To actually go through with this. Making it real. Letting someone, for the first time in my life, know that I am bent. A poof, queer, fag, fairy, gay, homosexual. Whatever. This, I think, is not such a good idea really... I lay down the quill, thinking, trying to convince myself. Convince of what? I’m not sure.

The first time I realised that I fancied boys, I was 13. Maybe I had an inkling before but if I did then I don't recall much. His name was Patrick, a 4th year Gryffindor. He was a really nice bloke. Never believed I was the Hair of Slytherin, didn’t give me shit when I lost a bunch of house points. If anything, he was one of few people who never seemed to care about the whole Boy Who Lived nonsense. I wasn’t really friends with him, but he was always nice and helpful to us, younger kids.

I still remember seeing him, for the first time, in the shower. It was then and there that I first realised the meaning of “erotic”, “sexy” and “hot” when referring to another person. Maybe it was just him being all wet and soapy, or the way light was shining from the window at just the right angle, or the way his foreskin was pulled back, all exposed, his pubic hair, or maybe cause I just forgot to take off my glasses. Kind of hard to ogle at boys when all I see is vaguely human shaped blobs... He was gorgeous and he stole my breath away. Still, I was 13, confused and unsure. Sex and sexuality were still a bit of a icky grown up stuff.

Following that day, I would often lie in bed, wanking, fantasizing. Each following one getting a bit more explicit. From vague ideas of looking and smiling at each other, to touching, to hugging, to kissing, to, well, you can guess, licking and sucking his dick. Each time though, when I finished I’d feel this shame and guilt. I remember swearing to myself that I’d never, ever do something like that.

I would tell myself that I wasn’t a poof. That I like girls. I would try and think of them. Other boys around me often said Cho Chang was hot. She was, back then, a bit of a tomboy, bit less girly than most and she played quidditch! At least there was that. Right? Right! And if I could fancy her, I would not have to be a “damn homosexual,” as my uncle likes to call gays.

Yeah, my uncle likes to complain about everyone and everything that is different. From magic, hipsters, traffic, foreigners, black people, muslims, the way the new mall was built, economy, to gays. Those “damn homosexuals” he calls us. Complaining how, in good old days people like me would be locked up, all nice and secure, away from the kids! Because yeah, being gay, appearantly, in some people’s minds, means I’m also a raging paedophile.

The Wizarding world is even worse. Gays aren’t accepted. Most people think it is some sort of disgusting sickness, something that one needs to be “cured from”. I have researched this, looked up old newspapers, kept an ear for rumors, sometimes chat and oh so innocently steer conversation this or that way. I’ve heard stories of what happens to people who undergo that “cure”. They are never the same afterwards, some of them end up committing suecide, others end up permanent residents of St. Mungos. Guess for some, better dead or sick than gay. Right?

There is this guy, older than me, around 30 or so, works in an Apothecary. Rumor has it he was caught with another man, his family forced him to go to St. Mungos and do the potion therapy. I’ve met him a few times. He looks like a corpse. There is no smile, no life in his eyes, tired looking, just seems to go through the motions, barely says anything. I always get the creeps, feel uncomfortable around him. I don’t know his full story, or if any of it is true, but I haven’t seen a single happy ending, no real success stories of “Cured and Happy”. Bullshit the lot of it. I think I’d rather die than be “fixed” like that.

I wonder about the hypocrisy of it all. How same people force their kids though horrible, life altering “cure”, or even disown them, or how only ten years ago people were shipped off to Azkaban. I wonder if these are the same people who then use these contracts, these all consuming secrecy enchantments to meet rentboys and hookers? But I guess when you are rich and powerful, and your clandestine meetings remain secret - it is no big deal, rules don’t apply. As long as no one knows, no scandal, no shame. Yeah… Hippogriff dung the whole lot.

Problem is, I have no idea how or where to meet gay people. I can’t imagine just flirting with someone or asking any of my friends. It is just not done. No one to talk to about this. Heck if I tried I’d end up a social pariah instantly. I can only imagine the shit Daily Prophet would write… Would my friends be okay? Would Ron and the Weasleys insist I go and get fixed? That I am sick and wrong? That I am guilty of moral evil and in danger of committing acts of gross indecency? Is risking everything worth it?

The contract, tempting and terrifying. And then there is the fact that  _ he _ , whoever  _ he _ is, is my classmate. Someone who I know, someone I went to school with for seven years. Shared classes, possibly someone I call a friend, or someone I dislike. Heck, probably seen him nude in the showers. I can’t help, but wonder which one of my classmates would even do this? I know it sounds rich coming from me, thinking less of someone for selling their body for sex, while at the same time salivating over the chance having sex with him… Yeah, hypocrisy. 

I wonder and wonder. Ron? Nah, I’m pretty sure it is not him. Seamus? Not so sure, though it doesn't sound like him. Dean? I think his handwriting is much neater, but then again he is very good with a pen. So who knows? Neville? I’d like to say I know him well enough, but who can be sure of anything? My mystery bloke, I think, is more likely outside of Gryffindor. But who? What do I know so far?

He says he is 19, slim built, he seems pretty well spoken, seems familiar with Muggles. I imagine in a somewhat difficult financial position, possibly can’t get or is unwilling to get a job? I guess this can rule out a few already! He hasn’t mentioned his skin color, but then again, despite many issues in the Wizarding World, thankfully, racism isn’t one of them and I’ve never noticed anyone caring. No one minds Shackebolt being our Minister of Magic, well at least not on the grounds of something as stupid as his skin color.

Who do I know in Hufflepuff? Never really hanged out with them much, not on a personal level anyway. Mostly just shared classes, DA and at most casual acquaintances. I suppose the same can be said for Ravenclaw. I kind of like the idea of him being Anthony - he is good looking and a decent bloke. Really good looking now that I think about him.

And then there are the Slytherins. Crabbe is dead and Goyle is anything but “slim”. Zabini? You know that could be him! I mean all the rumors about his mother, her string of dead husbands and her provocative behaviour. Could Zabini have picked up on that “family trade” and decided to earn money by finding rich men? Alright, maybe … I am overthinking it. Whatever his Mum allegedly has done, doesn’t mean he is the same. I’ve never had any real reason to dislike him. Other than, him being a Slytherin.

I amuse myself with the idea it is Draco Malfoy. Malfoy and me… I suppose we no longer quite the same enemies we used to be. Our coexistence during last year was remarkably peaceful. We and our mates even had a drink or two down at the pub in Hogsmeade. He has grown up a lot, matured. Better person all around. I suppose I too have changed. Becoming more understanding of the kind of environment he grew up in, the kind of nonsense that was drilled into him since childhood. He is good looking, I have to admit, and strange it is to think about - yeah I’d totally blow him.

The contract. My heart is racing, wondering if I am about to make the biggest mistake in my life? Will he see my name and run screaming, will I do the same? Even if we won’t be able to out the other, there is still awkwardness that will never get away from. Anytime we would meet, we would know. And know that one of us rejected the other. It is a scary thought. And feels like I’m gonna empty my stomach any moment. And yet, I can’t help, but also feel excitement, desire, this insatiable hunger. Just thinking about what I could be doing coming Saturday makes me hard and sends my heart racing and my mind conjure fantasies that are probably lot crazier and more fantastic than real sex.

I take a deep breath, trying to conjure the same courage I had to when facing Voldemort, even though I hate the analogy or comparing this to death, horror and fear I felt that day. Still, with trembling hands and a sense of lightheaded dizziness, I sign it.

I wait for a moment and then see the counterpart signature appearing. He signed on his end. I look at the name and genuine surprise washes over me, my heart skipping a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry still no ship announced. But almost there! Not too late to speculate in the comments ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am looking for a beta. English isn't my native language, so grammar, sadly suffers. I'f you'd like to help out let me know!

_ Theodore Nott _

I gaze at the name on the contract.  _ Nott _ . Somehow, I hadn’t even considered him. I imagined nearly every bloke in our year, heck even wondered if it was Ron or Malfoy, but somehow I discounted him. I hadn’t given him a second thought, dismissed without any consideration. What does it say about me if I can ignore a classmate’s existence and not even realise it?

I take the class photo, tracing my fingers over it. Trying to find him. I’ve been ogling at it quite a bit in the last few hours. Wondering and thinking, trying to figure which of the boys were hot, which ones I’d rather not meet. There we are, all smiling and waving, celebrating the end of school, beginning of adulthood and life ahead. Full of hope and plans, scared and excited in equal measures.

There! Thin, curly brown hair, quite tall. In all honesty I recognize him more due to the Slytherin robes he is wearing than from actual memory. I tap the picture with my wand and instantly zoom in on him. He is cute. No denying that, I swallow hard, trying to figure what sort of guy Nott is. Good looking, sly smile, still retaining a bit of boysh air about him. Front of his robes is carelessly open, showing a distinctly Muggle looking t-shirt underneath. In large stylized letters across it is  _ Metallica _ , along with an image of a fiery skull. I wonder for a moment, the Muggle rock band? Weird!

I try to remember my interactions with the boy over the years. Sad to say there aren’t many. Well, he was a Slytherin so our paths didn’t cross that much I suppose. Quiet, loner, rabbity looking boy when he was younger, often last to enter class and first to disappear. Never hanged around in groups, wasn’t part of any cliques. As far as I remember he never called me names or Hermione a mudblood, didn’t make fun of Ron or how poor his family is. Point in his favour I think! Probably the only student who spent more time in the library than Hermione …

But what little I know of him doesn’t quite jive with reality. Pureblood, old gold, influential. The Notts are one of few families who can go on toe to toe with the Malfoys in wealth, worldview and purity of blood nonsense. His father is a notorious Death Eater and now in Azkaban. Good riddance as far as I am concerned! So how come he knows about Muggles, how come he is openly wearing a Muggle t-shirt, how come he works as a rentboy?

More confused than nervous I glance at the insta scroll messages to see if there is a reply from him yet. Nope. I wonder if I should cancel, tell him I’m not interested? That this whole thing had been a mistake. Heck, he probably thinks along the same lines right now. That, or maybe having a laugh of his life. What a juicy bit of gossip - Harry Potter, the poof! Well the contract does prevent us from telling anyone, but still.

Truth is, same as always, I do want to meet him. Even knowing who he is, heck, part of me wants that even more. There is no denying that he is good looking, I glance at the photo, still zoomed in on him, waving, and did he just wink at me?! I slide my hand in my undies, stroke my dick, for a moment give in to fantasy. Sadly I’ve never seen him naked in the showers, but I try to imagine what his cock looks like, feels like, tastes like. Heck, maybe that is all I’ll ever have with him, one sided fantasy in my head...

I pull myself together, now or never! I can stay a closeted gay guy for the rest of my life, practice abstinence and fake being happy. However, being sensible and doing what other people expect me to, has never been my strong suite. No doubt countless witches and wizards will disapprove and my friends will be mortified if or when they find out. I can only imagine their disappointed looks, insisting I need help, and have I heard of this wonderful gay cure therapy St. Mungos provides?

You know what? Fuck them! I am tired of seeing my friends getting it on, being happy, having to witness them making out, their oft rumpled clothes, guilty looks and giddy smiles. I want to experience it too! I am tired of just wanking, tired of fantasies that are never more than just that! I want more! I want to feel real body against mine, real cock in my mouth, real lips around mine. Want to lie down next to a person and caress and snog and cuddle. Is that really so much to ask for? if Nott is willing to meet with me, so am I! Even if I have to pay for it...

> _ Hey _

My heart is now thundering, I chew on by bottom lip, hoping he would reply. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long.

> _ Hey there. I see you signed :) _

I gaze at the smiley at the end. Good sign I suppose? I chew on my lip, wondering what exactly to say to him. How to pick up that conversation? Despite my rush of adrenaline and decisiveness a moment ago, I am not entirely sure how to proceed. But he beats me to it as he writes:

> _ So do you still want to meet me this Saturday? _

He doesn’t mind! I can’t help, but smile. Still … I need to be sure. Maybe he hasn’t checked the contract yet, or misread my name? Hermione does love to berate my sloppy handwriting....

> _ You don’t mind, you know, uhm, meeting me? Now that you know? Sorry, just want to be sure you are okay with that. _

He doesn’t answer right away, I wonder if he actually is rechecking his contract, it takes over a minute before I see a reply forming.

> _ Sorry, my flatmate was banging on the door. Nah I’m fine with meeting you Harry. I was a bit surprised, but if I am honest I’m glad it's you and not some of the guys in our year. How about you? You think you okay meeting me? _

He has a  _ flatmate _ . Rent boy, Muggle affiliated, lives in a  _ flat _ , with  _ flatmate(s) _ ? What happened to Nott manor, his extended family, mounds of gold? Also, he called me  _ Harry _ . Not sure how I feel about that. The Wizarding world has a bit of a thing about calling someone by their first name. Generally it’s more of a right that is given once earned. I suppose some Wizarding customs are a bit archaic. Leftovers from a more chivalrous age… Another thing to add to the list I suppose,  _ doesn’t care for Wizarding etiquette. _

> _ Same here to be honest. Yeah, if you okay meeting me then yeah. Definitely. Absolutely. This saturday? _

His reply is immediate:

> _ Sounds good to me. So you wanted to book for the whole night on Saturday? Have you thought about what you’d like to do or where to go? _

I haven’t really thought much, other than come to my place and suck his dick till my lips are swollen and my throat is sore. Great plan, Harry! Wonder what are my chances of boring him to death?

> _ Dunno, just meet, chat maybe, as I said I got some Muggle movies. We can order some food and get some drinks. What do you think? _

Slowly I stroke my dick, I know it is still only Tuesday, but anticipation is building in me.

> _ That sounds good to me. How about we meet 6pm on Saturday in Trafalgar Square, by the fountains? _

Muggle London? Not sure what I was expecting. But I suppose less chances of gossip and prying eyes than say, meeting in the middle of Diagon Alley.

> _ Yeah, sounds good to me. Saturday, 6pm, by the fountains. Got it! _

Stroking myself, one eye on the class photo, he is definitely winking at me. Am I imagining that he is licking his lips? Fuck! Can’t help, but fuck I am horny. Why the hell did I agree to Saturday? I could have met him tonight!

> _ So have you thought what you’d like to do with me? _

I wish I could just pour my fantasy into the parchment. It is so easy to think about stuff, so hard to actually express myself.

> _ Dunno, stuff you mentioned sounds pretty good to me. Whatever you are comfortable with. _

What if he is not comfortable at all? With any? Doing all this just for money? Should I feel bad about it? I am paying him… No? I am so confused how I should feel about any of that.

> _ So shy, how cute! Seriously no need to beat around the bush with me. You want me to suck your cock? Yeah? _

I choke a bit and stoke myself even faster, fuck yeah I want that!

> _ That, be cool. Yeah! I want to, do you too, if okay with you. _

His reply is quick.

> _ Want my cock? It’s 6.5 inches, I love getting sucked. I bet you wanking right now, aren’t you? _

I grin, my heartbeat racing, I’m no expert on sizes, but I think his dick is maybe a tad bigger than mine. I read the rest of the sentence, no idea how to respond. He guesses about me wanking, will he think I’m a pervert if I affirm?

> _ Yeah, push it in my mouth, balls deep, fuck me in my mouth, I can take it! Bet you’d like that. My tongue dancing around your tip, sucking you hard. Like that Harry? Want to do that? _

I read the lines and wank fast, desperate, re-reading again, trying to imagine what that would feel like!

> _ And then my cock in yours, we 69 each other, bet you’d love that! _

My breath hitches, I lick my lips, loud moans escaping me. I am usually super quiet when wanking and indulging in fantasies. If you spend 7 years living in a dorm, you’ll learn to be very quiet too!

> _ Want me to come in your mouth? Yeah? _

I can’t help it, I come, hard, licking my lips, catching my breath. I lie there for a while. Just giddy and happy and … this is what I’ll be doing for real on Saturday! I think he takes my long silence wrongly as he follows up in a hurried handwriting:

> _ Sorry, did I go too far? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! _

Breathing a bit easier now, more calm. It’s nice of him. But he doesn’t need to worry!

> _ No worries, yeah, I was. You know. I’d really love to do what you wrote, for real. Like really really want to do that! _

I watch as my message slides up, into the history of our chat, a new line forming below as he writes his reply.

> _ Brilliant! You’re pretty hot you know that? I was wanking as well. I got cum spread all over me right now. Wish you were he to lick it all clean :P _

Earlier nervousness is gone, though I still feel unable to be as free as Nott is. I’ve never in my life talked dirty, or even talked about sex for that matter! It is strangely exhilarating and it all makes me feel noughty. I fight against the urge to check that no one is here to catch me in the act, make sure doors are closed and curtains drawn. But I’m alone in the house.  _ Calm down Harry! _

> _ Wish I was! Thanks for that! I've never done anything like that. _

His handwriting appears sloppy and lazy, no more careful neat script from yesterday when he wrote about contracts.

> _ You're very welcome! I’ve quite enjoyed chatting with you today as well! _

I wonder what he really thinks of me. Is he genuinely this nice? Is he an okay bloke, but just putting up an extra show because I’m paying him for it? Is he having a laugh at my expense? Poor, desperate Potter so eager for a cock? I try to banish cynicism from my mind. I don’t know anything about him and so far he’s given me no reason to think he is a dick. Other than… that maybe he has a really real nice … dick!

> _ Thanks. Can I ask you something? _

He replies

> _ Sure? Ask away. _

I take a deep breath, not sure if I even should, But I am curious, I can’t help myself.

> _ Are you gay? Or just … _

Wish I could properly finish my question and not sound like an insensitive berk.

> _ Am I gay, or just sucking men for money? _

I am surprised at his abruptness, but then again he does seem to speak exactly what is on his mind.

> _ Sorry I shouldn’t have asked that. Sorry. _

I take a deep breath. Merlin I hope I didn’t just mess everything up!

> _ No worries. So, Saturday 6pm? _

He didn’t answer, didn’t deny nor confirm. Maybe it was too personal. Or maybe it means he really does it just for money. Or maybe, as I realise, there are boundaries. We are not chums planning a meetup, not mates planning to go on a hike. He is, as the contract stated  _ providing a service _ , and I am just a  _ client _ . In some ways it makes me sad, at the same time there is some weird comfort in this. Business transaction… doesn’t mean it can’t be fun and enjoyable, but also means there is no need to justify, or apologise, no expectations other than just having a good time.

> _ Yeah, looking forward to it. _

We conclude our chat for now. I need a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, for all the Draco fans. I do really like Harry/Draco, but didn't just feel right for this story. I've always been a fan of Theo, he is so underused in the canon, we know so little about him. One one hand he is on equal footing to Draco (rich, pureblood, death eater parents, Slytherin), but on the other hand so also different. I think so much potential to explore his character. Hope you enjoyed this, I've got more planned.


	4. Chapter 4

Rest of the week is becoming something of a tunnel, I feel. Long tunnel where the only shining light is at the other end, where, shrouded in mystery and confusion stands Theodore Nott. Feels like my every thought and moment coalesces inevitably towards my meeting with him. Like a black hole that sucks in all my thoughts and time. Years of denial, confusion, frustration, fantasies... This Saturday. I hope it will be worth it. I hope that somehow, I won’t mess it all up!

Alright, I know that it won’t be that easy. He is a rentboy, I am paying him to meet me. And, lest I forget, there is a contract that stipulates the expectations and boundaries. All encompassing enchantment of secrecy that cannot be broken, except in most dire of circumstances, enforced by the Magic of the Ministry. That’s all there is to it really. Not a big love story, no romance, just a dry meetup, suck each other off and wave a meangless goodbye when all is said and done.

Throughout Wednesday I find myself impossibly horny, every moment that passes I can practically feel my dick in my pants restless, hungering for attention, my mind giddy with expectations of what is to come. I desperately want to write in the insta message scroll and talk to him! Talk about sex, about cocks and cum, blojobs and snogging! Things he will do to me, things I can do to him! But I try to contain myself. I don’t wish to come off as some pervert who can’t even keep it in his pants for a couple of days! It takes all my self control to calm down, push down this horny craze. _Just a few more days, Harry!_

\---

I don’t even see it coming when I suddenly find myself crashing to the ground, bound and gagged. Unable to move. Utterly helpless, only my eyes darting madly around. I try to wiggle, to move my wand, to push out a spell and enact my magic... But It is hopeless. The _Incarcerous_ spell that binds be is, I must admin, superbly cast. After a long moment I give up the struggle and just wait for my doom. Hands are pushing, rolling me over, so that I am now laying on my back, staring up.

Ron is grinning at me, from ear to ear, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. The bastard is not even trying to hide his smugness! I try to wrestle for a moment, but ropes only bind me tighter. We are in the middle of Auror training exercise. Supposedly objective today is to learn situational awareness. I guess I have failed. Hard to be alert and focused when all I can think about is how much I want to suck Nott off. Somewhere in the background, our supervisor announces his congratulations to Ron, who is practically preening at this point. The bastard!

Finally Ron takes pity on me and dispels the ropes and the gag. I sit up, a little sore and bruised. Though if I am honest, it is more my ego that is hurting than anything.

“You okay mate?” he asks, Ron’s eyes are a bit worried as he looks at me, earlier triumph having died down a bit.

“Yeah, m’fine,” I mutter. Not really wanting to talk about it. How exactly am I going to explain that I was just wondering how thick Theodore Nott’s cock is, rather than concentrate on our training exercise?

“You seem a bit off today. Are you sure you're okay? You're not having nightmares again are you?” Ron seems unconvinced, worry etching across his features. Alright, I know my history isn’t exactly spotless here. He has good reasons to doubt my assurances of being _fine_. I nod, smile at him and clap him on his back, standing up. Hopefully he’ll let it go…

“Come on Harry,” he practically whines at me, “we both know that I should be the one down on the ground!” I take a deep breath. He kind of has a point there. Ron is amazing, especially good at tactics and logistics, brilliant at calming people down, a real people person with his warm smile and approachable manner. However, when it comes down to duelling and situational awareness, I’m a lot better. Sorry for the lack of modesty. And yes, I do see the irony here.

I put on my brightest smile as I regard him, pat him on the shoulder and look in the eyes to drive the point home “All good mate. And don’t sell yourself short! Seriously that was one wicked Incarcerous! Have you been practicing?”

There is a moment of hesitation, but then a smile spreads all over his face, a slow nod confirming that yeah, he has been practicing it. Without me, but I don’t mind. We take our places again, letting the scenario restart, resuming the exercise. Well at least for a moment I’ve forgotten about Nott and my upcoming meeting with him. Thankfully the rest of the training session is less disastrous for me.

\---

“So, you're coming over this Saturday, yeah?” Ron asks me brightly. We are done with the training for the day, showered, debriefed and endured a long performance evaluation, but it's all done now. We find ourselves in a Muggle pub which is just down the road from the Ministry of Magic. Pub itself may be a Muggle one, but Greg, the barman has worked here long enough. He doesn’t say anything, but I have a feeling he knows exactly who we are.

“Sorry, Ron. Can’t make it,” I pray to Merlin and any other deity willing to answer my calls and hopes that my best mate won’t pry. Tough luck there…

“Huh? Why not? Mom will be making her famous Shepherd's pie Harry and Treacle Tart, your favourite!” Damn. Damn. And damn. I vaguely remember the invitation to the dinner. I never answered it, but then again I didn’t say I won’t be coming either... Taking a deep breath, my brain in full panic mode, what to tell him? I know Ron well enough, he is not good at just letting things go. Damn!

“Sorry, just something came up,” I try, taking a long sip of drink, avoiding Ron’s eyes.

“Like what?” He is eyeing me now suspiciously. Alright, I suppose there is the fact that I never have any plans. Not without Ron and Hermione anyway. And my fidgety behaviour probably hasn’t escaped his notice either…

“Just stuff. Sorry Ron. We’ll have dinner some other time, my treat alright?” I look anywhere, but at him.

“Okay, but you’ll need to make it up to Mum though! You know how she worries that you aren’t eating enough right?” There is a humorous glint in his eyes… I nod.

“Is Shacklebolt cracking the whip again?” And of course he won’t just let it go. Damn. And no Shacklebolt is alright, most of the time. Though as the Minister of Magic, he does, from time to time, expect me to attend meetings, or a ceremony, or deliver a speech, or pose for a picture, or give interviews, or what have you. I am, sadly, a bit of a posterboy for the new Ministry and its reforms. I hate it of course, but Shacklebolt has been doing a good job so far, so I do what I can to help. I wonder for a moment if I should just let Ron assume that this is indeed the case, but I’m no good at lying to him.

“Nah, just something personal. It’s no big deal. Say your Mum I’m sorry will ya?” Ron eyes me suspiciously. Not quite yet ready to let it go.

“You not going on a date are ya?” there is almost conspiratorial glint in his eyes. I choke and splutter my drink, my heart racing and avoid looking at him. I wish I had better control of myself in such situations. People always say I’m way too easy to read. Argh! And heck, technically it won’t be a _date_ per se. Just … a shag.

“You are! Bloody hell mate,” he is practically leering at me now. Like a predator who has cornered their prey and knows the poor thing has nowhere left to run and is now just toying with it.

“So who’s the lucky bird? Is it Maggie?” I raise my eyebrows, looking at him confused, “Maggie?” I croak out? Who the hell is Maggie?

“You know the one from cafetaria? The lunch girl? She is always making eyes at you. Heck she gave you 3 extra meatballs today!” Ron is practically scandalous about it. What a terrible person I am, some girl apparently went out of her way to be nice to me and I never even noticed! Well, if she had been a hot bloke on the other hand… Better not go there right now.

“No, not… Maggie. It’s …. Someone else. Just, please let it go? It’s no big deal alright?”

Ron looks at me for a moment, finally subsiding a bit, “still, we got to celebrate!” he announces, “Hey Greg,” Ron calls out to the barman, “can we have a round of drinks? Something stronger, Harry here got a girlfriend, got to celebrate!”

I wonder if the earth could just swallow me up. It is nice of Ron of course, there is a round of cheers and shouts of congratulations from the rest of the pub patrons. I sip the gin and wonder if they would be as supportive if they knew it was a bloke and not a girl...

\---

My week progresses slowly. I try to keep myself busy, avoid questions, avoid looks and gossip that inevitably spread. Ron is not good at keeping secrets. Of course he told Hermione, who probably told Ginny, who likely told the rest of our little circle, and no doubt there were other witches and wizards at the Muggle pub who heard Ron’s announcement. It is a miracle I don’t see it splashed across Daily Prophet in the following days! Alright I know I am blowing it out of proportions a bit. Still, there is unease in me. I try my best to go about my day as usual, _no big deal_ I say to myself.

Horny and nervous, I can’t help but wonder if meeting Nott is a good idea or not, whether it is not too late to call the whole thing off? My sleep is restless, strange dreams invade. In one I stand by the fountains and suddenly Nott is there, but something is wrong. He is pointing at me and laughing, suddenly a whole crowd of people are laughing at me. I find I am naked and aroused and they all laugh at my desperate attempts at modesty. My friends, schoolmates and teachers, anonymous crowd and Uncle Vernon is there, “Always knew you were a damn no good homosexual! Should have given you the belt! A good beating would have cured you, faggot!”

\---

Saturday finally rolls around and I admit, as I get out of the bed, I’m a nervous wreck. I do my best to ignore my morning wood. I look forward to tonight, I want it to be perfect so I’ve been avoiding indulging myself. I take a cold shower, not that it helps much. But, I do manage to make myself busy with cleaning the house from top to bottom. Dust the shelves, mop the floors, hoover charm the carpets, clean the kitchen, even do some gardening. I always like to keep the house clean. I suppose if there is one good thing I learned from the Dursleys, is my penchant for cleanliness and neatness.

I force myself out of the house at lunchtime, I go for a jog round the local park, I put on my headphones and insert a Metallica cassette into the Walkman. I bought the music cassette the day before, mainly due to the t-shirt I saw Nott wearing. I have to admit, music is good and as I run, for a little while my worries and nervousness subside. The music player is one of few muggle items I own, and strangely enough it was gifted to me by Dudley when I last saw him. Guess his way of making amends and saying thanks. It’s brilliant and I’ve been using it a lot ever since.

By the time it is 4pm I have taken my 3rd shower today. I am trying on shirts and wondering which one looks good. I’ve never been good with clothes. Never been all that stylish - usually throwing on whatever rags I happen to own. I have been trying to be better at it though. It’s not easy, but over the last year or so I’ve actually bought a whole wardrobe of new clothes that fit me, that aren't Dudley’s old cast offs, haven’t belonged to one of Ron’s brothers or fished out from the Charity Wardrobe at Hogwarts.

I know, I know, he is only a rentboy. It’s not a real date. None of this really matters. As long as I am reasonably clean (and there were several clauses in the contract related to appropriate level of hygiene) he can’t really say _no_ to me. Can he? Still, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try and make a good impression. I do hope that he’ll have a good time too, or at the very least won’t die of boredom! Clean socks, clean underwear, jeans, my colorful Hawaii shirt. Some deodorant and I even gel & comb my hair! I look at myself in the mirror, well… this is my best foot forward, as they say.

I Apparate to a hidden spot close to the Houses of Parliament. This spot is often used by the Ministry employees who have business with the Muggle government. As I step out and onto the sidewalk along the Whitehall, the hustle and bustle of the city immediately hits me. People walking, hurrying to and fro. Cars, cabs, bicycles, scooters, trucks and double decker buses all weave seemingly through each at dangerously close distances. There is nothing quite like London during evening rush hour.

I still have around 30 minutes to go. I forcefully try to think of anything other than the meeting ahead, as I slowly walk along the Whitehall towards Trafalgar Square. I gaze at people, the shops and the traffic around me. It is a brilliant day and I always enjoy just wandering around, window shopping and people watching. Suppose from childhood, looking at happier families and wondering if there was, somewhere, a place where I’d be welcome and loved. There are tourists, people hurrying home from work, street performers and beggars...

Along the way I gaze where No. 10 is. The very seat of Muggle Power in the United Kingdom. There are gates and policemen guarding the entrance to Downing Street, but I’ve been there, at No. 10. Was very nice. The new Muggle Prime Minister who was recently elected, apparently has a more pragmatic view of magic. Had even proposed a joint cooperation between our respective states. Previous Ministers of Magic would have no doubt laughed at the very idea, dismissed it as absurdity, but Shacklebolt sees potential there. 

And so, one of his little chores for me, was to attend a formal dinner party at No. 10 last year. It wasn’t so bad, there was almost no media, just the two Ministers, their wives and a small selection of trusted aides. In all honesty it had been a very interesting experience and the food had been excellent. It was also one of the last outings that me and Ginny went to, together, as a couple. She had been brilliant, beautiful. Even me, a closeted gay guy, had to admit that that night she had been absolutely gorgeous.

But the problem is, her being absolutely drop dead gorgeous just wasn’t enough. This sad realisation that no matter how much I try, I’ll never see her as anything more than a friend. I love her, but I’m not _in love_ with her. I don’t fantasize about shagging her, or seeing her naked, or feeling her body against mine, or kissing her… I tried, I really, really tried. Even convinced myself for a little while that I was happy with her. Oh don’t get me wrong, she is a wonderful company, but… it wasn’t enough. Our breakup was amicable enough. She too admitted that, while she loved me as a friend, I turned out to be a boring and abysmal boyfriend. Ouch.

But now I am here, the Trafalgar Square. It is crowded with tourists, people taking pictures, posing, I see a few kids have climbed into the fountains and hollering around, no doubt to the horror of their parents… Some people just enjoy the evening, drinking beer or what have you. The lions are as impressive as ever. As I get close to one I watch it as it stretches its paws, shakes its mane and gives me a silent roar. Though the monuments are to a Muggle war, a Muggle battle, its impact was felt throughout the Wizarding Britain. And so, someone it seems, had at one point or another, put on a little enchantment of their own.

Well, I’m here. I check the time: 17:56. I wonder which one of the people he is? I mean I know what he looks like, I have been memorizing his features in the class photo for almost a week, shared classes for 7 years, but still. Magic can do many things to one's appearance. Not to mention can make you look as someone completely different… My heart is beating and my knees feel weak. I can’t help but try and catch the eye of every guy in vicinity who looks even vaguely like him. But no… Will he come? What if he changed his mind? Maybe he is somewhere hidden and having a laugh at my expense?

“Hi Harry,” I hear a soft voice to my right. As I turn around I see him. Him, unmistakable, without shadow of the doubt. There he is. Theodore Nott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I'm not overdoing with Harry's feelings, thoughts, etc. In my mind he is, in this story, a little messed up. Well next chapter will finally get to see Harry and Theo interact. I hope you like it so far.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a bit longer than I expected, but hope you like it.
> 
> Also - looking for a Beta reader. English isn't my native language, so if someone could help out, would really appreciate it.

Theodore Nott, I must admit, is HOT. Tallish, my eye level is at his lips, thin, willowy bloke with thick curly brown hair, just long enough to almost cover his equally brown eyes. His face is tad pointy, but there is still a boyish charm to him, youthful vibe that seems to say that maybe puberty isn’t quite yet done with him. He is wearing a black _Aerosmith_ t-shirt, tight black jeans and sneakers. I let my eyes glide over him and admire what I see. I can’t help, but glance at his crotch, perhaps for a moment too long and I look away, blushing, hoping he does not notice and think of me as a total creep.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think he is an ordinary muggle. He seems completely at ease with our surroundings, not an inch of him out of place. Even Ron, whom Hermione had dragged half way across Australia, lectured at length on Muggle customs, fashion and society, is always fidgety and no matter how well dressed, he can never hide the fact that he does not belong here. Theo though? Only thing I notice, and it is because I am trained to notice these things, is the tip of his wand in the front pocket and the quiet, comforting presence of his magic.

“Hi,” I try to smile at him, but I think my shaky voice is betraying my nervousness. Nott, though doesn’t seem to mind, smiles broadly at me, his eyes gliding all over me, making no attempt at hiding the fact that he is checking me out. If he is finding me lacking, he isn’t showing.

“Did you have any trouble finding this place?” he queries as he reaches his hand towards the lion, but his eyes still on me, the lion springs to life, gives a silent roar and nuzzles into Theo’s palm as he starts petting it.

“No, been here before. Besides, I was raised in the Muggle world. I know my way around,” I explain to him, stepping closer to the lion as well. Who gives another silent roar, showing off its impressive mane.

“Oh good then. Some wizards I’ve met here get all lost and confused,” he answers and turns to the lion, “who's a good kitty? You are!” he murmurs as he ruffles the lion’s mane. 

“First time I came here, these lions gave me quite a scare. Some Muggles thought I must have gone barmy,” I explained to him. Theo gives a quiet chuckle, the lion is now behaving like an overly affectionate puppy.

“So, what would you like to do now?” he sounds chipper and once again his attention is on me. Lion gives off a sad yawn before returning back to its usual pose. I stummer for a moment, not quite sure what to say. Go to my place? Have a walk? I haven’t made any big plans after all. No itinerary to follow.

“Uhm dunno, what do you suggest? We could go to my place, as I said I got a bunch of movies and such,” I suggest.

“We could do that, but how about, first we go grab a drink? I know a nice bar not far from here, what do you think?” I nod in consent and off we go. Up the hill, past the National Gallery and up the Charing Cross Road.

Somewhere here is the cafe that me, Ron and Hermione found ourselves in after we escaped Bill and Fleur’s wedding, where Death Eaters found us. I do my best to push that out of my mind, today is a happy day, isn’t it? No need to dwell on the past. Besides, it is a warm autumn evening, the sun is still up and the street is full of noise and colour, dressed up people on their way to evening performances in various theatres of the West End, or for a night out.

I’m not sure what to talk about though, what do me and Nott really have in common? Until today we’ve never really spoken in person. I keep glancing at him and then away, but thankfully he manages to carry a conversation anyway. Nothing riveting just chit-chat about small inane things like the weather or how well I know Muggle London.

“We, me Ron and Hermione, took the hop-on hop-off bus tour last year,” I explain to him, “so mostly just touristy places and I know the area around Diagon Alley quite well” When I was thirteen and staying at the Leaky Cauldron, I did sneak out to Muggle London a bit. Mostly to get away from gawkers and creeps who constantly stared at my scar or tried to shake my hand.

Soon we turn to a smaller street, lined with cafes, restaurants, weird shops, entrances to clubs that are guarded by burly bouncers, deep base music emanating from within. There are shops with signs such as _Simply pleasure_ and _Trashy Lingerie_ . It takes my naive mind an embarrassingly long time to realise that these are **Adult Stores!** I choke and quite honestly panic, looking around, realising that businesses here are different from the usual touristy fare.

“Welcome to Soho, Harry!” Nott, the bastard, is practically laughing at my reaction. I give him, what I hope is a stern look, but my stomach is queasy, nerves rattling and I fight against the urge to flee... And the people! People here, people who wander around, some in groups, some by themselves, laughing and talking loudly, dressed in the most provocative clothes I’ve ever seen! There is one guy, handsome, leaning against the fence, large glass of bear in his hand, wearing absolutely nothing but the tightest jean shorts I’ve ever seen. And they are very very short and leave very little to imagination! He sees me looking, blows me a kiss and wiggles his eyebrows. I look hurriedly away, embarrassed.

I am so out of place here, every direction I look I see things! Things that make me want to stare, but also look away, as if it is something naughty, something I should not be around or get mixed in. Like I am pretty sure there were two guys just standing outside, holding hands and leaning into one another. Surely not! Right? I barely notice the pub sign _G-A-Y_ written on it, as Nott pushes me inside, but my mind is so full of confusion and wonder that I don’t register what I saw properly.

Inside is very nice, not that unusual from any other pub I’ve been to, dark wood panelling, the tell tale smell of booze and beer, loud constant murmur of people talking, clinking of glasses. However, what really draws my attention are the pictures on the walls: pictures of various men, some posing, dressed up, others caught in random everyday moments and some even naked! There is a large black and white photo, very artistic, of a muscled man, completely naked, his cock erect for all to see!

And then Theo is in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, his brown eyes looking directly into mine. I snap back to reality, he looks a bit worried, “I guess you never been to a gay bar?” he asks. I shake my head, I don’t trust myself to talk at the moment.

“Hey, relax,” he murmurs, his fingers gently squeezing my tense shoulders, “it's just Muggles here,” he is standing very close to me, his nose almost, but not quite, brushing against mine. Almost.

“Well, mostly,” he continues after a moment, “besides there are loads of privacy, look-away and notice-me-not charms in the area. Gay witches and wizards do come here too, but won’t be able to recognize you. Not unless you go and shove your face in theirs.” he sounds reassuring, I do my best to nod and take a calming breath. He pushes me towards an empty table, “sit, I’ll go grab us some drinks okay?”

I cast a silent, wordless, wandless version of _Muffliato_ charm around us. I have been practicing it for the last couple years, very useful, though admittedly it was Hermione who worked out the necessary Arithmancy for it. Nott does notice it, but says nothing and we laps into a bit of silence. Kind of negating the need for the charm to begin with, but I think he is giving me a moment to just gather myself. We sip our drinks - apple cider, not overly sweet, bit tart, not sure about the brand, but I like it, and tell him so. It makes him smile and his smile is contagious.

I do tell him that I’ve never known about gay bars, or Soho, or that such places even existed! He chuckles, but his eyes are warm and understanding, “yeah didn’t know either, until Richie, my old boyfriend,” he clarifies, “brought me here.” Not sure who Richie is, but I am glad that Nott is actually gay, or at least bi? I was a little afraid that sex with men is only for money with him.

And so we stumble on the topic of muggles in Theo’s life. He looks at me for a long time, as if he is pondering whether he wants to discuss this with me or not, but in the end, haltingly he does.

“Kind of your fault you know!” he isn’t accusing, more a comment, but the shift in tone is there. I immediately tense up a bit, becoming more alert. Over the last couple years I’ve faced countless accusations, people blaming me for their sufferings, loss of loved ones, or why didn’t I do this or that for them. I understand grieving is painful, loss is difficult, and me being such a public figure, and though I hate to admit it, I am pivotal in Voldemort’s rise and downfall.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to blame you Harry,” he is quick to reassure me as he reaches out to my hand, covers it with his and his look in his eyes is earnest. And so he starts speaking:

“I grew up with my father. My mother died when I was seven years old. No, it’s okay, I got over it a long time ago. I do visit her grave every year of course... My father though, he didn’t care. He only married her to have an heir, that’s all. To be honest, my mother, from what I remember, wasn’t exactly a caring person either. Death Eaters. Both of them.

“He was never really there for me, mostly ignoring my existence. When he did notice me, it was to blather on about the Good Old Glory Days when the Dark Lord ruled and fill my head with Pureblood bullshit.

“In all honesty I didn’t care for any of it. I mostly just liked to read books and be out of his way, in my room or in the back gardens. I won’t lie and say I heroically disagreed, just that, it all sounded much too dull and I’d rather go and read about Pippi Longstocking! Probably a good thing he didn’t pay attention to what I read, if he realised I liked _Muggle_ books of all things, well, I would have been introduced to _Cruciatus_ curse a lot sooner.”

The earlier smile has fled his face, he looks older now. Youthfulness has somehow crumbled away, at some point I’ve turned my palms up and our fingers are interlaced. Slowly caressing, comforting. After few sips of drink he continues his tale:

“When the Dark Lord came back, my father went _insane._ He kept blathering on how everything will be better now, how all Mudblood vermin will be killed, how the Muggle Garden Town outside of our Estate will be wiped from existence! Yeah there is a town, built in the 60s I think, just outside our Manor. Father always hated it. Called it an eyesore. Complained how it ruined the view! Said he was embarrassed to invite visitors because of it...

“Anyway he wanted me to become a Death Eater right then and there, barely home from the train station! I told him I wasn’t interested. He put me under _cruciatus_ curse, right there, without warning. I was to serve the Dark Lord, he said, or I was to be disinherited as a Blood Traitor... It’s alright Harry, if anything, I knew right there and then that I hated him!

“I was lucky though, The Dark Lord did not share my father's enthusiasm for me and other kids joining just yet. He insisted we had to go back to Hogwarts, unmarked, and continue our education, continue the charade that everything was normal. For me of course, it was a massive relief!

“After my father had tortured me, I decided to spend as little time at the Manor as possible. Wasn’t hard to be honest. Father was mostly away and didn’t care what I was up to anyway. So I went down to the town. I’ve never been there before. Only ever seen from afar, from our estate, hearing constant complaints about how ugly and dirty the place was.

“It wasn’t. Imagine my shock when I found streets weren’t filled with manure and horses! No cattle or pigs roamed the streets, people did not bathe in mud, no brats rolled on the floor with the dogs!”

Nott chuckles at some inside joke, I am not sure exactly what, but he is once again more lively, excited even, to tell the part that I get a feeling means a lot to him:

“I met a bunch of kids there, my age, playing some sort of game. Basketball, but I didn’t know it back then. Just like that, they waved me over, didn’t even know my name or anything, asked if I wanted to join in. Said they were in uneven teams. So yeah, that’s how I met my best friends in the whole world: Christie, Ryan, Sam, Jane and of course Richie.

“They didn’t care about blood purity, or wealth, or any other nonsense that Father put so much stock in. It was liberating, you know teenage rebellion and all! All the new Muggle stuff around me was exciting. And I found out Richie was proud and out gay, he was seventeen back then. I hadn’t realised until that point that there even were gay people, or that I was one, that me noticing boys and not girls at school wasn’t wrong at all!

“Anyway I spent the whole summer with them. Saw my first move in the cinema - _Batman Forever_. My mates still take the piss out of me sometimes on how convinced I was that Gotham City is real and that somewhere out there is a real Batman. With a bit of magic doesn’t sound so absurd does it?

“First time I had the Big Mac and drank Coca-Cola, first time I played video games or been inside a proper muggle book store. Manor has a section in the library with some muggle books, a shelf that I think Father is entirely unaware of, but it did not compare! I was blown away by the variety and sheer amount of muggle literature that exists.

“It was summer of so many firsts - first smoke, first drink, first fist fight, yeah me and Richie were out, some local bullies attacked, calling him a poofter and if I was his new boyfriend, that’s how I first found out btw. Hmm what else? Oh yeah first kiss, first blowjob…

“Hey no need to blush! How cute!” he is gently laughing at me, my hands still in his, heat is rising in me, I nod at him to continue:

“I admit we weren’t exactly the nicest bunch. We ran around, hollered and made more noise exactly necessary, Sam had this stereo that worked on batteries that he always brought to the park, which we blasted full volume. Night and day, We smoked weed, drank booz, sneaked into local night clubs to dance, got into fights with some local idiots, especially anyone who gave Richie hard time because he was gay.

“Anyway Hogwarts was so boring after that, so dull in comparison. Listening to Malfoy and the rest of Slytherins around me drone on about this or that, complaining, whining - mostly about you, come to think of it, dissing Muggles while having no clue what they were actually like… I wished there was a telephone at Hogwarts, but technology of course doesn’t work. I think it is unfair to Muggleborns, how cut off from their families they are while at school. I did send letters to Richie, he was endlessly amused by the fact that I had a mail pigeon… He refused to acknowledge that my bird was an owl!

“Summer after our fifth year wasn’t so different. Father was in Azkaban, for me it meant freedom. I know how selfish it sounds, people were dying, The Dark Lord was out there, everyone scared, but me? Yeah I had the time of my life! Quite frankly I did not even plan to come back to Hogwarts, planned to stay with my friends.

“Our gang got into some trouble with police late Summer. You know we drank and smoked weed. So we were known round the town as a bunch of troublemakers. Anyway Christie and Ryan broke into a car to have sex in, because they are idiots - that’s why! Following morning the police came, arrested all of us at the park. I was bloody frightened if I am honest. I didn’t have my wand on me, and imagine if I had to reach out to any of my relatives, Death Eaters and Dark Lord sympathisers the whole lot - to come and save me from Muggles!?

“When the police insisted to see my parents or guardians, I lured them to the manor, saying we didn’t have a phone cause we were old fashioned. I got out of the car to open the gates. Of course they never got inside - the Muggle Repellant wards kicked in and they turned around, confounded, forgotten I even had been there. Probably remembered they had left the kettle on or something…”

Theo gets up to get another round of drinks for us and I am left thinking and wondering. The tale he is telling me isn’t one I had imagined, but I can see how fondly he speaks of his friends. I do wonder why he is so open about all this? Maybe he just wants to tell it to someone who isn’t a Muggle? Or maybe he just is an open person and doesn’t mind? Or maybe he simply feels that I am connected to his story, to Voldemort’s rise and his own life?

I look out the window, the Sun is setting and sky darkening, but the street is even livelier now, people milling about, bright signs above shops, restaurants and bars. Some just stand around in groups, talking and laughing, drinks and snacks in hand, I see a pair of boys, no older than fifteen, making out right there, without a care in the world! I wonder how much I’ve missed out on, being so closeted, so ignorant, stuck in society that in some ways never progressed past last century?

Theo is back, smiling, asking if all is good, he assures me that his friends didn’t get into too much trouble in the end, mostly just some stern talking to and warnings. Despite all the shenanigans they were still good kids at heart. Though he hadn’t known at the time, and was far too frightened and worried. On the first of September, his aunt found him in the manor and pretty much dragged him back to school, insisting the Dark Lord expected regular updates of comings and goings inside.

“So how did you, you know,” I’m not sure how to finish that question, but as usual, Nott seems to have good intuition as to what I am curious about. “How I became a rentboy?” He queries, eyebrow raised, but he isn’t defensive at all.

“With Dumbledore dead, Dark Lord out in the open, I came back to the Manor to find my father was already there. Nothing of yet another escape from Azkaban had been reported, but there he was. He brokered no argument from me. I was seventeen he said, time to get myself marked. In the end I did manage to convince him to postpone my marking til after I graduated. I insisted that I wished to impress the Dark Lord with good grades from my exams first and thus, hope to be held in higher regard.

“He actually bought that tripe. Said how proud he was, for me actually taking initiative and that I will bring high honor to our name! More so than Malfoys ever were, who had disappointed the Dark Lord so thoroughly. I, us, the Notts, were destined to be his new Right Hand Men! Yeah…

“I grabbed my stuff, told him some BS I’m going to see some girl, he honestly didn’t care about that, and I left the manor, went to stay with my mates.

“Previous years I always had money. I could just go home, access our Gringotts account, exchange for Muggle currency and live off of that. Now suddenly I found I had nothing. I did not dare to go back to the Manor, lest Father changed his mind, lest Dark Lord decided to mark me…”

Nott nurses his drink for a while, but he has my attention, I nudge him, encouraging to continue.

“I’ve known for a while that Richie worked as a rentboy on the side. I can’t say I approved, I mean who likes the idea that your boyfriend shags other men? But I didn’t question. Was one of the things we all knew, sometimes he would be busy in the evenings, or get into strangers' cars, but we never really talked about it or confronted him.

“I needed some cash, wanted to do all the things we usually did, cinema tickets and booz and weed - all cost you know. In the end I asked Richie about the rentboy business. He didn’t really try to dissuade me or anything. Said he himself was gonna quit anyway, getting too old and moving to University campus in the fall. Said if I wanted I could take over his old clients.

“Richie made it easy for me. He introduced me to a guy, Tony, his name was. First man I had sex with for money. To be honest I liked Tony right away. Jovial, mid thirties and man was he fit! He worked out a lot and it showed! Super sweet, not at all dodgy or weird. I was confused why man like that needed to pay someone, but Richie told me that ‘Tony just likes to fuck young boys’. So yeah there was that.

“I met a few dodgy men too to be honest, few who tried to force me, but the good thing about being a Wizard is that I was not defenceless. And with change of government and general mass panic, a bit of self-defence magic in some Muggle suburbia - no one gave a damn about it.

“So I made my ads, charmed them to filter out anyone I didn’t like,” Nott continues, but pauses when I look at him in surprise.

“What do you mean filters out?” I ask him, he grins, seemingly quite proud of himself, as he explains:

“Just a few charms, you know a bit like the Goblet of Fire that judges worthiness? Less complex, but similar. Age range, reasonable level fitness and hygiene, no sexually transmitted deseases and few other things like no homophobic brutes who might try and hurt me or something. Had a guy I met who thought he could beat the gay out of me…”

I snort a bit and glad he is taking precautions. The ad, I remember finding it, a couple of months ago, on the wall of the men's loo in a pub.

We lapse into silence again, me trying to process everything. Of course there is a lot he isn’t telling me, but I don’t begrudge him for that. I feel we are coming to the end of the tale, but there are few tidbits I am still curious about. If he’ll indulge me.

“You went back for the seventh year,”I comment. Because I remember him being at the Battle, I remember he was a student.

He takes a deep breath, we both take another sip of the drink. I am starting to feel tad light buzz and telltale signs of being a bit tipsy, but my mind is still coherent enough.

“Just before the end of the summer, my father got his wish. He was allowed to attack the town, to wipe it out. Kill everyone,” he starts and I look up in horror, but he smiles and squeezes my hand reassuringly.

“Spoiler alert, it didn’t pan out as he expected. And again, you are to blame. Sort of. Anyway, don’t look at me like that! It’s a good thing!

“Anyway my father was so excited about it that he and some of his chums got into town early. They thought they could get the _party_ started. The Dark Lord and the rest of the Death Eaters and newly formed Snatchers would join him a bit later. It was all going to be good fun! Or so he thought. I guess, I didn’t know, wasn’t there. But I know him well enough.

“There was resistance. Muggle police, and Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix people, along with some muggle militia. Someone had tipped off about the attack, everyone moved in a bit early it would seem”

I am genuinely surprised. I do know that Order did not stop working against Voldemort even after the Ministry fell, but I hadn’t realized that resistance was this active! I force down the stream of questions I want to ask right now and let Nott continue his tale.

“Yeah, suddenly there was resistance where they expected none. They thought they could just waltz down the street, burn and kill everything in sight! HA! Fighting broke out and my father got shot by Muggle Police. Can you imagine how humiliating? Best thing to happen that whole bloody night!”

I look at him in confusion, “Muggle weapons?” I ask, “I mean simple shield charm and they are useless! How did that even happen?” Nott is definitely enjoying my confusion.

“Yeah usually,” he explains, “but my Father knows nothing about Muggles. Nothing. I grew up with stories about how Muggles are drowning in Horse Manure because they can’t get themselves around. And anyway if you don’t know what you are facing, not much you can do. No shield charm, no heavily armored cloaks warded against physical attacks and you don’t notice in time? Bang and you are hit, bullets move way faster than our spells. Usually. Bullet does as much damage to a wizard as it does to a Muggle.

“Anyway the whole thing was a dud. Dark Lord and the rest of his Merry Gang never showed up. Apparently there was a rumor that you had been sighted. I heard he forgot and dropped _everything_ on the spot, grabbed everyone he could and ran after you. See? You saved my town!”

And Nott leans in and kisses me, slightly, gently on the lips. In all honest I am too shocked and confused to properly respond. After a moment he is pulling away, letting his fingers trail through my hair, his eyes peering into mine, “I know it wasn’t you physically, but that night, by proxy I admit, you saved me and my friends, lot of people lived that night because Moldyshorts ran after you like some deranged maniac!”

He is kissing me again, properly, all noise and hubbub of the bar fades away as I lean across the table, to better grab him, touch him, my emotions swinging high and my heart singing and excitement running through my veins. I barely notice that my glas topples over the edge, and goes crashing to the floor, but I do not care. I barely notice anything! Kissing him is so different than kissing a girl. No flowery perfumes, no makeup, no gentle soft curves, no long hair that would get in the way! His jaw is chiseled and slight scruff of a recent shave and his shoulders are hard and bony. It’s brilliant, beyond brilliant!

We pull away when one of the staff comes by with a cleaning mop, a good looking bloke in his early 20s, smiles broadly at us and when I offer my apologies and insist I pay for the glass, he waves us off and gives both of us a high five, saying not to worry and that broken glasses are just part of the business expenses round here!

“So what happened afterwards?” I ask him, I want to know how it ends, because he did return to school, didn’t he? He is caressing my cheek, my own fingers entwined in his, my thumb caressing him.

“Well, I Told my friends to run, take the car and drive off, call the police and whatnot. Luckily they listened. We didn’t get far though and got caught between The Order and My Fathers gang. I did my best to shield our car, but a stray curse got me.

“Luckily my mates got out alright, though Jane got cursed. She is fine now, don’t worry! The Order was able to break the curse and Oblivate her. All my friends got out alright. Though I didn’t know it at the time. My father saw me there though, he thought I had come and joined the Glorious Battle, that was before he was shot. Saw me getting hit and told one of his men to grab me and apparate to the Manor.

“That’s how I found myself back. Father said he was proud of me! Seemed to even think that I had valiantly shielded Death Eaters against the Order scum. HAH.

“Anyway The Dark Lord came to our house. He was absolutely, positively PISSED. I don’t know what happened, but I got a feeling that he had suffered losses as well. Some even rumored that The Dark Lord had been lured into a trap by the Order that night. I don’t know if it's true or not, but man was he angry.

“We all got a dose of _Curciatus_ , my father the worst though. The Dark Lord was not impressed that he had been shot by a _pitiful muggle toy._ Father was forbidden to use magic to heal the wound. And you know the funniest thing of all?”

He looks intently, on the edge wanting to burst, I edge him on, eager to hear the end.

“Dark Lord said that as punishment for my father's ineptitude, the town was not to be touched! That the muggle town was to stand as a moment to his shame and failure!”

Nott suddenly bursts into laughter. I suppose nothing else can be said, good to know Voldemort failed that night. Even if I had nothing to do with what that happened, Nott seems to think I saved them. Well I’ve had this before, people, showing gratitude for things I have not done, often for someone else's sacrifice. But I suppose my name was involved so … Did the Order really lure Voldemort to some trap, making him think he was about to catch me? Well… I definitely approve!

He is caressing my hand again, gently smiling. I don’t know Nott, but Merlin I wish I had befriended him in school. I wish I had realised earlier that not everyone in the house of Slytherin was evil or bad…

“So,” he half whispers, seductive, “wanna blow this joint?”

I nod in excited agreement and moments later, we are out in the street, his hand in mine, our fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so, hope Theo's story makes sense. Leave in the comments what you think about :P


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